


Behind Frail Bars

by Rhadamantelope



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, hannibal is an asshole and will is understandably angry, somewhat dated fic but I figured I'd post it anyway, the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3521630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhadamantelope/pseuds/Rhadamantelope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The heart and the mouth are fickle things. Will Graham learns this the hard way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind Frail Bars

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in the tags, this is another old fic of mine that I still rather like. I tried not to make Will come off as too jealous or needy(?) and I certainly hope I achieved that.

"I heard about you and Alana."  
The room remained quiet. It had been quiet for a while now, occupied only by two men, one behind bars and the other leaning against the wall across from him.  
"Is there anything you would like to say on the matter, Will?"  
Will Graham bit his tongue. There were many things he wanted to say. He wanted to ask Hannibal Lecter why he did it. He wanted to sneer and tell him how disgusting he was. Most of all, he wanted to lean in and ask Hannibal if he thought of him while he fucked her.  
But instead,  
"It was for an alibi, wasn’t it?"  
God, he had said it too quietly. He had sounded desperate, and Hannibal smiled.  
"Why do you think that, Will?"  
Will swallowed hard.   
"Because I know what you are," he hissed, gripping the bars of his cell. "You’re a monster. You can’t feel. You don’t feel anything for her."  
"I can’t feel, hmm?" Hannibal clicked his tongue, like a teacher disciplining an unruly student. "Do you know that for sure?"  
His smile had softened, giving the illusion of sincerity. Will swallowed again and slid his arms out over the bars, letting them hang there limply.  
"I think that it is quite apparent, Doctor Lecter," he croaked. "You do not care for those you have the gall to call your…friends."  
"I cared about you."  
Will let out a harsh bark of a laugh.  
"Before I ‘turned’ on you, right? Is that what you were going to say, Doctor?" He shook his head and stared at his shoes.  
"God forbid you express any sentiment of fondness towards me, Will."  
"Oh. Oh, excuse me," Will said, looking up. "Let me sing the praises of the man who put me in here. The man who framed me for the murder of Abigail Hobbs. Yes, Hannibal, GOD FORBID I express any sort of affection for you."  
The room went silent again. Hannibal no longer smiled.  
"Fondness," he repeated. Will made an inquisitive sound. "I said fondness, not affection."  
"Oh, whatever," spat Will. "Correcting my vocabulary choices now, are we?"  
"Perhaps more of a Freudian slip than word choice," Hannibal replied softly.  
"What are you getting at, Lecter?"  
"The feeling is mutual, if that helps any."  
Will ground his teeth. He could feel the heat rising to his face as Hannibal stepped closer, and then closer still.  
"I don’t know what the hell you mean."  
"Your affections, William," he said sternly. The two were mere inches away from one another; Will could practically smell the psychiatrist’s cologne and tried not to breathe too deeply. "You would not have asked about Alana earlier if you had no interest—"  
"Only to confirm that you USED her…"  
"…And just now. ‘Affections’ and ‘fondness’ are not quite interchangeable in this instance. They denote two entirely different things…"  
"Fine," Will snarled. "Maybe that was what I meant, somewhere deep down. Are you fucking happy? Or do you want more? Do you want me to tell you that I’ve fantasized about you in the dead of night, just to bolster your ego? Because there’s really no point in saying otherwise; you’ve already brought me down the the lowest I can possibly be—"  
Will was silenced by a quick, forceful kiss. He remained still for a moment, hopeful that Hannibal would take his lips off his own after a while. What felt like an eternity passed before Will leaned into the kiss, tilting his head and opening his mouth. He dared to slide his tongue across Hannibal’s teeth, half expecting to feel razor-sharp canines and incisors before Hannibal pulled away.  
Will was tempted to tug the man back by the lapels of his jacket, but rested his chin on the bars instead, wishing they were not there. Hannibal stroked his cheek gently. Will tried his hardest not to lean into the soft touches and begrudgingly turned away from his hand.  
"Did you ever actually care about me?" he ventured. Hannibal considered his question for a minute.  
"I suppose I did." He licked his lips and brushed his fingertips across Will’s jawline before folding both arms across his chest. "I suppose I still may."  
With that, he turned on his heel and, rather hurriedly, exited the room. Will stared after him, hoping that perhaps Hannibal Lecter would care just enough to glance behind as he left.


End file.
